


The Chronicles of Jaejoong's Layover in Narita

by countingcr0ws



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Author!Jaejoong, BLESS THE WORLD, Bless JYJ for their perve, Bless Linda, Businessman!Yunho, Jae goes on book tours, Jaejoong did his bachelors in US, M/M, Narita airport, Oppai chocolates, Salesboy saves the day, Sex Toys, Traumatized salesgirls, Troll!Yoochun, White names for dildos, Yunho is forever sexy, monster dildo, yes very delusional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcr0ws/pseuds/countingcr0ws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://authorkurikuri.tumblr.com/post/112173164975/all-those-sex-toy-prompts-you-probably-didnt-need">Prompt</a> I just discovered that you can buy vibrators at the airport, but while I was trying to load my bag into the overhead compartment on the plane, it fell out and landed right in your lap. How am I supposed to spend the next four hours sitting next to you and not die of embarrassment???</p><p>With 1.5 hours to spend in Narita Airport, Jaejoong strolls about, is confronted with the disappointment of the closure of his favourite coffee shop, scares a salesgirl with his dildo preferences <i>(11" please)</i>, and is duped by his best friend, Yoochun, to harrass salesgirls about their breasts. But that's all before his newly acquired Made in Japan monster dildo makes a shining appearance before a Uknow doppelgänger (how unembarrassing).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chronicles of Jaejoong's Layover in Narita

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t easy do a brisk coffee business from the corner of an airport when the international chains were situated at prime areas with higher traffic. Taking in the mannequin dressed in an ivory satin corset and a thick furry coat bracketed by the lengths of frosted glass, the author marvelled at the elegance the Japanese possessed in the conducting of their private affairs. Even the name was nondescript, Jaejoong mused in appraisal of the clean script of the shop’s sign. “Secret Edge,” was playful and elegant, a contrast to the ton of adult shops he had seen and visited once in the States. 

He really liked the baristas that used to work here though, the man lamented as the back of his mind began to consider the possibility of acquiring a secret edge to complement his schedule that oscillated between writing in Korea with his family, and promoting in America where his books were published at. 

The baristas here used to greet him by his name (how quaint) before enquiring about his life and Mariko had even began reading his books. With an acknowledgement of the fatalistic nature of life, the author pushed the disappointment of the closure of his favourite spot in Narita Airport to the background as he made a mental run-through of his toys. He had lost his favourite vibrator in the tour for his previous book and the others were never as satisfying with their conservative girths and lengths that he had acquired during his undergraduate days.

Shrugging to himself as he spared a final thought for Mariko’s high school entrance exams, the author pulled his beanie lower, weaving smoothly around the mannequin before bursting into awed laughter at the combination of good lighting, neat shelves, wooden flooring, and light music of the sex shop, reminiscent of the bookstore he had just departed from in New York. 

Marvelling at the signs leading him to the various pleasures, the man nearly tripped over his feet when he finally tore his eyes away to look before him. 

In the middle of the aisle was a life-sized silicone doll kneeling prostrate on a table, her full bottom spread and presented to the air to reveal the ripe, luscious folds of her vagina in contrast to the modest light pink of her arsehole.

“We have a doll with two functioning holes too,” a salesgirl suddenly interjected in English before greeting the author with a smile at his attention. “Nihongo wo hanasemasuka? (/T.N.: Do you speak Japanese?)” She queried, apologizing when the man frowned before waving his hands.

“This is one of our most popular models, silicone for the genuine texture, and a detachable orifice for easy cleaning,” the girl continued briskly as she reached to remove the tube attached to the doll’s vagina, pressing the walls of the length clinically before extending it towards the man. Jaejoong complied politely, feeling the instrument gently as he made an impressed noise in acknowledgement of the quality. 

“100% Japan made, and we provide free shipping with a spending of more than ¥25,000. Would you like to see our other models?” She asked with a touch of pride as she reattached the length to the doll.

“No,” the man raised a finger with a quick shake of his head. “I’m looking for a vibrator,” he mimed a length before making a sharp gesture indicating insertion. If the salesgirl was in any way traumatized, she did not show it as she nodded impassively before making her way across the shop.

“Would you like to look at our penis vibrator? It’s one of our newest products with three different settings. It can-” Jaejoong cut the tired recommendation off with a raise of his hand. “I already have The Pulse,” he apologized as the girl set the product back onto the display desk. “I’m just looking for a vibrating dildo,” he explained as he began to survey the signs on his own.

“Do you have anything particular that you’re looking for?” The girl asked, noticing her customer’s impatience as she began to head directly towards the desired section. “Just a suction vibrating dildo. Long, fast, thick,” he replied with a shrug, brows raising when he began to see the familiar display on the shelves. 

“This is one of our most popular,” the girl introduced as she pulled a steel-blue dildo off the rack. “Nine different speeds and it comes with a remote control.” 

Jaejoong took it over, turning it about for inspection before squinting at the Japanese on the packaging. “It doesn’t seem very long, does it? I’m looking for an 11 inch dildo.” The salesgirl’s mouth fell open before quickly complying as she walked down the row. 

“11 inch length, 2.5 inch width,” she announced as she handed a product to the man. “This is angled though,” she continued almost immediately with a second introduction of the adjacent dildo. The man’s face lit up as he appraised the new selection that looked a lot like Chad, the dildo with the whitest male name that he had lost in Seattle. 

“Do you have this in other colours?” He queried as he returned the first toy to the girl. 

“Yes, we have purple, pink-” 

“Pink. I’ll take pink,” Jaejoong interrupted quickly as he handed the conservative beige Chad-lookalike over. Why scrimp on the colour when he was already looking for some fun? The man grinned to himself at the prospect of Yoochun’s scandalized look when his friend broke into his house only to see the brightly coloured monster dildo contrasting sharply against his white sofa.

“Do you want a travel-sized lubricant?” The salesgirl asked, replacing her colleague at the cashier as she checked the toy out. The author pouted at the accessory before checking the time on his watch. “No thanks,” he declined politely as he handed his credit card over. He had but thirty minutes until the gate opened for his flight, and he hadn’t played with himself properly for a long time for the half hour to suffice.

“Can you help me to remove the packaging?” He asked as he unzipped his bag to pull his jacket out, only to pause with a frown when he noticed the blinking LED light of his phone. “Thanks,” he acknowledged distractedly, shoving the toy into his bag without looking, tucking his card away as he headed out of the shop with a grateful smile at the salesgirl. 

Trudging along the carpeted flooring, the author reread Yoochun’s ‘URGENT!!!!’ message for the Nth time as he tried to figure out what sort of chocolates the other was looking for. However did Yoochun manage to crown a Japanese confectionary his favourite sweet in the first place? Such was a hard life, Jaejoong sighed as he began to practice the helpful translation his friend had included in the message. “Sumimasen, oppai ippai ga ari-” the author apologized quickly when he walked into a cleaner. 

“Sumimasen, oppai ippai ga arimasuka. Chokono,” Jaejoong practiced under his breath with a deep frown as he headed towards the many confectionary stores he had seen about the airport. 

Nearing the first sweet shop, the man smiled at the bright, bouncy Japanese pop song playing from the speakers as a staff in a frilly pink apron greeted him brightly as he approached. “Sumimasen, oppai ippai ga arima-” he delved in, grimacing when the last section eluded him. “Arimasuka? Chokono. No?” Jaejoong repeated in attempt to achieve the desired lilt to the effect of a question. 

“Arimasen. Dette kudasai! (/T.N.: No. Please leave!)” The girl began to wave him off, palpably flustered as she continued with a string of Japanese when he raised his hands in a ‘please calm down’ motion. 

“Sumimasen, oppai ippai ga arimasukaka! Chokono! (/T.N.: Do you have a lot of boobs! Chocolate ones!)” He repeated louder in desperation when the salesgirl refused to comply as she began to cry, his hands ineffectual as it flitted about the air of her sides, too frightened to make contact as she instead began to clutch the front of her apron closer, her deranged cries increasing in volume. “I just want to buy some sweets!” He yelled in frustration as he wrung his hands weakly.

“No! Go away!” Gaping at the rudeness screamed at him, the author withdrew his hands as he backed away slowly, conscious of the small crowd that had gathered about the shop. “I’m sorry,” he fumbled, his hands shaky as he pulled his beanie lower, painfully traumatised as he shoved his hands into his pockets before slinking away in a brisk walk, pushing past a burly middle aged lady that was making loud, disappointed noises at him. 

Whatever was the matter in the first place? He swore in his mind, sullen as he glared at the cheery salesgirls along the front of the other shops, suddenly desperately missing his favourite coffee shop that had closed down. Never had he experienced such an awful transit in Narita Airport, and he didn’t even know where to write in for a complaint. 

Sulking as he stormed into the second shop, the author glared at the first staff in sight before reciting his line without bothering about the fancy inflection and what not. 

“Oppai chokoreto?” The teenaged boy clarified with an incredulous expression as the author nodded without reply. “Hai, arimasu. Kochirae onigaishimasu, (/T.N.: We have it. This way please.)” the sales staff gestured before leading the way as the man trailed along unhappily, glaring holes at the overpriced sweets on the shelves. 

“Kore desuka. (/T.N.: Is this it?)” The boy gestured at the selection before placing a crinkly package into the man’s hands. 

“Oppai chocolate?” Jaejoong whispered brokenly in disbelief as he took in the bag of individually packaged miniature white breasts tipped with an erect pink nipple; a deep, vengeful, sub-vocal growl rolling in his throat as he crumpled the package in his fists, pulling it apart in anger while the frightened salesboy began to yell a string of unintelligible Japanese in the background while the author seethed at the prospect of shoving the breasts individually into Yoochun’s pathetic, scheming asshole the moment he returned to Seoul. 

\- 

Jaejoong’s mood improved significantly after purchasing treats for his nieces together with ten packets of Yoochun’s “favourite” chocolate for his mother, eight sisters and himself together with a Heart Moko Moko Mokolet candy that comprised of a DIY toilet bowl to eat the candy out from, a perfect gift for his chemically unbalanced friend. 

Settling at the lounge with ample time before the gate closed, Jaejoong lifted his purchases up brightly when the staff called for the Business Class passengers to board, awashed in the foreign gratitude of the familiarity of the Korean language, an emotion that he had but experienced years ago during his freshman year in NYU. 

Joining the back of the queue lazily, the man smiled to himself at the thought of watching Yoochun eat out of the toilet bowl while he circled the pink nipple of his oppai chocolate smugly, a shit eating grin on his face as he broke the tip off before lavishing in the taste of the chocolate melting in his mouth while Yoochun choked on his candied shit. 

Ambling along the aisle with the lingering satisfaction of meting out his revenge for his humiliating experience, the author nearly stumbled at the sight of the Uknow doppelganger in the seat adjacent to his. Even despite the dressed down attire, his seat-mate was obviously a businessman to his favourite idol, a V-necked navy blue Lacoste jumper over a completely white ensemble, his polo tee almost blindingly fluorescent even from a distance, his hair styled to cock effortlessly at the front. Tucking his boarding pass into his passport before dropping it into his bag of purchases, the author lifted it easily into the overhead compartment before swinging his bag to the front to pull his laptop and jacket out when- “Kyle,” he gasped horrifically with zero ounce of exaggeration when the monstrous pink dildo he had long forgotten about fell out simultaneously to land heavily on the stranger’s lap as the stranger pulled his eyes away from his phone, his shapely cupid’s bow parted as his eyes looked up to meet Jaejoong’s frightened ones. 

“Kyle?” The stranger queried in perfectly accented English as he wielded the dildo in his shapely fingers while the author squeaked in his frozen position, desperate to snatch the toy up but too ashamed of having his sexual preferences publicly exposed to react properly. “The second whitest name after Chad,” he whispered as the man laughed in appreciation, returning the toy into the author’s bag before pulling it out of his slack fingers to deposit it above, after zipping it up with his gloriously functioning appendages. 

Jaejoong swallowed his saliva as the warm strength along the side of his body shifted to an arm on his back that guided him to sit. 

“So what happened to Chad?” The man asked conversationally as he leaned over the console, his lips cocked in amusement as the author whimpered inaudibly, his eyes unseeing as his laptop jutted at an awkward angle against his hip. “Chad was lost in the last tour,” he said feebly as he looked downwards at the grey carpet. “This is the worst- no the second- I want to stay home forever while Yoochun eats shit,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled his jacket over his face before breathing slowly underneath his hands in the cover of the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Uknow’s doppelganger asked from civilisation, his voice deceitfully coated with anxiety while the author pretended that he was writing himself to oblivion on his laptop. “Are you crying? Is there any way I can help?” The man switched anxiously between English and Korean as he fretted beyond the boundaries of Jaejoong’s world. 

“Shhh,” he hushed the man sharply as he extended a finger beyond his universe. “I am pretending that this didn’t happen and you can help by doing so,” he instructed as his breath evened. Taking his jacket off, the author beamed at the stranger. “Hi,” he greeted politely before whipping his phone out oh-so-casually to type a death threat to his best friend, with a promise to haunt him for life if the plane crashed- “but I don’t want to pretend that it didn’t happen,” the man suddenly blurted as the safety video came on. 

“I want to know properly about how you lost Chad, why you go on tours, what was the most embarrassing thing that happened, why does Yoochun have to eat shit, why you have so many oppai chokoreto-” the impeccable Japanese accent of the trigger words caused the author to flinch as his fingers stilled. “And I want to know how far that blush travels,” the stranger finished, his gentle eyes bright and hopeful as they pleaded for a chance while the author’s bitter dignity warred with the curious anticipation blossoming within him.

\- - - 

“Jaejoong! Jaejooooooong!” Yoochun waved madly from behind the balustrade with a shit-eating grin as Jaejoong looked at his friend in disgust. 

The stranger, Yunho laughed behind him in amusement, a hand at the back of his waist as he pushed him forward. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him?” The businessman asked once more as the writer shook his head defiantly. Yoochun deserved to marinate in his sins forever. 

“Okay,” Yunho nodded before pressing a chaste kiss on the author’s cheek. “Stay here. I’ll fend him off,” he assured before approaching the man in the red cardigan.

“Hello Yoochun,” he greeted politely with a withdrawn smile. “Osusume arigatou. Ima Jaejoong wo ieni suredeite oppai kara nippuru wo tabemasu. (/T.N.: Thanks for the recommendation. Because of that I’m going to bring Jaejoong home to bite the nipples off his breasts.)” The man gave his friend a wave before leading him off with a light arm on his back. Laughing incredulously at the stunned expression on his friend’s face, the author asked the other what he had said to his friend

“God, I do not have breasts!” Jaejoong gasped when Yunho pulled away after whispering into his ear, hitting the other on the arm as he laughed suavely, wrestling his flailing hands down to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

Melting into the warm embrace of a stranger he had but met two hours ago as the bustle of joyous families and tearful lovers reuniting faded around them, the author knew with the conviction of his entire being, that his trust in the man was not a flight decision but a course he had been waiting his whole life for.

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese translation with credits to [ on LJ, Yoochun's line apparently means 'Do you have the boob biscuits. Chocolate ones.' but with a literal translation of 'Do you have a lot of boobs? Chocolate ones.' Mistakes mine, TRANSLATION MISTAKES LINDA'S, HOLLER AT ME FOR ME TO HOLLER AT HER.](http://lindabelinda99.livejournal.com)


End file.
